


Psychosis

by alicekinsno1



Category: Deadman Wonderland
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Drama, Gen, what you didn't see
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-11
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-05 10:16:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14616210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alicekinsno1/pseuds/alicekinsno1
Summary: For some reason, Owl just would not accept that his daughter was dead. Genkaku was determined to find out why. Contains references to violence, death, self-harm, and abuse, including of psychiatric patients, as well as torture and drug use.





	Psychosis

**Author's Note:**

> It's been my suspicion for a while now that Nagi is mentally-ill, so eventually I decided to commit my theory about it to fanfic. Enjoy!

“You gotta understand,” said Genkaku to Owl, “the Undertakers don’t so much wanna have you as be you.” As he lounged in his chair, Genkaku took in the spectacle of Owl struggling with the booster drug he had given him. It was a horrible substance, that caused intense pain and hallucinations in anyone who took it—but it was necessary for removing the body’s natural limitations. For the Undertakers to be a match for the superhuman Deadmen they had to become superhuman themselves, after all. Now Owl was twitching, sweating, and gritting his teeth to suppress his screams, but showed no sign of passing out. Genkaku realized that he’d taken a bit of a risk by giving the drug to such a powerful Deadman right off the bat, but after all, Owl didn’t know what the drug did, and the more unbalanced he was the easier he’d be to manipulate.

It seemed like an eternity before Owl calmed down. “W-what did you do to me?” he at last sputtered out.

“Oh, just gave you a little something all new Undertakers get,” said Genkaku nonchalantly. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t passed out. In my cohort I was the only one who didn’t. Maybe you’re tougher than you look.”

“I-I won’t…join…the Undertakers,” Owl panted, sucking in air in desperate gulps. “N-not…as long…as my daughter lives.”

Genkaku facepalmed. “Not this shit again! How many times do I have to tell you your daughter is dead?”

“She isn’t!” Owl protested. His breathing had steadied, and he fixed Genkaku with an icy glare. “I know she’s alive!”

Genkaku massaged his temples in frustration. “I’m telling the truth, man! She’s dead! I sliced open your wife’s belly and ripped her out of her womb myself!”

“That’s a lie,” said Owl bitterly.

“It isn’t!” Genkaku retorted. For a moment neither one spoke. Then, at last, he said: “Fine, you want proof? I’ll show you proof!” Genkaku retreated to the same room from which he’d gotten the drugs. On one shelf was a jar containing a red blob that looked vaguely like a tiny baby girl. He grabbed the jar off the shelf, ran back over to Owl, and thrust the jar in his face. “You see now?” he said. “This is all that remains of your daughter. She’s dead. Because I killed her, just like I killed your wife.” Genkaku took the opportunity to inspect the jar. “Mm, she’s pretty cute,” he said admiringly. “Look at her sweet little face. She gets it from you, I’m sure.”

Owl’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, and his mouth dropped open. But in the next instant the shock turned to confusion. “There must be some mistake,” he said. “That’s not my daughter. My daughter doesn’t look like that.”

Genkaku rolled his eyes up into his head, seeking patience. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he murmured.

“Look,” said Owl, “I have a locket with me that contains a picture of my daughter! That isn’t her! See for yourself if you don’t believe me!”

Genkaku smiled a little in spite of himself. He set the jar down on the table and began searching Owl. Sure enough, attached to his belt was a small silver locket. Genkaku took the locket and opened it. It was completely empty. The next instant, realization dawned on him. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said. “You really are delusional.”

Owl just stared at him, the confused expression fixed on his face.

Genkaku crouched before the Deadman, bringing him to his eye level. “Tell me something,” he said. “Have you ever seen or heard something that nobody else around you could see or hear?”

Owl shook his head. “No, never. What has that got to do with--?”

Genkaku cut him off: “How about believing something that nobody else around you believed or understood? Anything like that?"

Owl reflected for a moment, and then answered: “No. I don’t think so.”

“But maybe someone in your family has?” Genkaku continued. “A mother? Or a father?”

Owl’s bottom lip trembled, ever so slightly, and Genkaku could just barely make out his whispering something that sounded like “F-father.” It was just as Genkaku had hoped.

“So, your father, he did do those things?” Genkaku pressed.

Owl looked furious with himself as he averted his gaze. “Yes, I suppose he did. But I still don’t understand—!”

“Ooh! Tell me all the gory details!” Genkaku said, leaping up in his excitement.

“No!” Owl screamed. “I’m not telling you anything!”

Genkaku frowned. “I was afraid you were gonna say that,” he said. “Alright, I’ll make you a deal. Let’s swap. You tell me what I wanna know, and in return I’ll tell you anything you like about my own past.” He plunked himself down on the couch again, facing Owl.

“I’m not interested,” Owl replied obstinately.

Genkaku sighed dramatically. “Alright, fine,” he said, picking himself up from the sofa. “I see this calls for extreme measures.” Slowly, savoring the terrified and befuddled anticipation on the Deadman’s face, he began removing the black band on his left wrist. To this point he had only removed his wrist bands when he was sleeping and had certainly never voluntarily shown anyone what was underneath—but he had to be straight with Owl. After all, if anyone could be made to understand, he was sure Owl could. He stared down at the thin pink lines on his wrist, and then thrust them in Owl’s face. “You see these scars?” he said. “When I was not that much older than that little snot-nosed Aceman-loving kid you’ve brought on board, I was so miserable I used to cut my wrists up, all night every night. Pretty crazy, huh?” Not waiting for a response, he withdrew his wrist and slipped the band back on. “By the way, I’ve never told anyone else in the entire world about those scars. You’re the only one I’ve ever showed them to, Owl.” He grabbed the Deadman roughly by the hair. “So talk. Unless you want me to torture the information out of you.”

Owl bit his lip and averted his gaze. For a moment he just sat silently, seemingly in contemplation. At long last, he said: “Alright, I’ll tell you.”

“Excellent!” said Genkaku, releasing Owl’s hair and flopping down on the couch again. “This oughtta be good!”

Owl took a deep, shuddering breath, and began: “When I was four years old, I watched them take my father away. First the police came, and then the emergency medical staff, who loaded him onto a stretcher and dragged him away kicking and screaming. He’d stolen some chocolate eclairs from a nearby bakery because the aliens in his head told them they were my favorite food.” He gave a mirthless laugh. “I don’t even like chocolate.”

“He spent a lot of time in hospitals?” Genkaku intuited.

“He was always in and out of hospitals,” Owl replied. “We’d go to visit him sometimes, my mother and I. I hated it there. It was terrifying. Sometimes he’d be lying in bed. Sometimes he’d be strapped to beds. They’d just leave him like that, he’d be there when I came and when I left.” He sniffed. “I don’t know why they thought it was a good idea to keep him strapped to beds. Whenever he was home he was the sweetest, gentlest man in the world. I loved him, and so did Mother.” His voice was growing choked with sobs now, and he cleared his throat.

“That sounds pretty messed-up,” Genkaku noted. “And then what happened?”

Owl gritted his teeth. It was a moment before he resumed. “When I grew a little, he would take me out boarding up vending machines.”

Genkaku couldn’t restrain a laugh. “Why the fuck would he do that?!”

“Because,” Owl said testily, “the aliens in his head told him that there was a monster that lived in vending machines, and if we didn’t board them up the monster would come out and feast upon people’s flesh.”

Genkaku felt another laugh coming on that he barely managed to stifle.

“It sounds crazy to think about it now,” said Owl, “but at the time it was actually pretty fun. He’d put up the boards and I’d decorate them with drawings and paintings.” He smiled dreamily at the memory. Then his face went dark. “Of course, then they caught him and sent him back to the hospital.”

“And nothing could be done for him?” Genkaku asked. “He was just in and out of those hospitals, in and out, in and out, all your life?”

“Well, sort of,” said Owl. “They gave him some pills to take, but he didn’t take them very often. He said they made him fat and lazy. My mother had to beg him to take them on time, and sometimes when I was cleaning the house I would find little pills in strange places, so I know he lied about taking them at least a few times.” Owl shook his head. “Then, the first year I was in middle school, he died.” He smiled, an eerie, mournful sort of smile, as tears ran down his face. The sound of his sultry voice choked with sobs was music to Genkaku’s ears. “Apparently he’d thought he could stop traffic, and so he ran out into the middle of the road just as a bus was coming. He was struck down and died instantly.” Now Owl had bowed his head and was sobbing uncontrollably, his voice an awe-inspiring blend of rage and depression.

Genkaku now knew that Owl was right where he wanted him, and he could have kicked himself for not thinking of this earlier. “I see how it is,” he said, his face stony as he lit a cigarette and took a drag on it. “I’ll bet you didn’t have many friends, huh? No one wants to hang out with a kid whose father’s crazy, do they?”

Owl shook his head and choked out something that sounded a bit like “no.”

“They were probably scared you’d end up just like him,” Genkaku extrapolated. “Maybe they even told you you had no right to be loved or marry. Certainly no right to breed.” He gestured toward the fetus in the jar.

Owl was shaking uncontrollably. “It’s true!” he wailed. “It’s all true! I heard every single word you said at least once!” For a moment he just sat there, quivering in agony which Genkaku savored. Then, at some length, he seemed to calm down. “But then I met Tsubasa, and everything changed.” His voice was a little more hopeful now. “She was a freshman at the local university. She’d gone with her parents to pick out decorations for her apartment, and she happened upon my textile shop. It had been my mother’s, but she died of exhaustion when I was seventeen.” Owl sighed. “Anyway, she promised me that she would love me no matter who or what I was. She told me that if I were committed to hospital she would visit me every single day, and if I had to take drugs she would make sure I did. She wasn’t scared of me at all.” Owl burst into tears again.

“I take it Tsubasa’s your wife,” said Genkaku, although he already knew the answer. “How cute. An owl who’s lost its wings.”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Owl shouted with a force that surprised Genkaku. “Why did Tsubasa have to die?! She was the most caring, gentle woman in the world! She would have been such a wonderful mom! And now our daughter will never even know her!” He dissolved into tears again. Genkaku, despite himself, couldn’t help but feel some pity for Owl in that moment, and he vaguely considered referring him to old Hitara so the two men could commiserate. But, he realized, Owl probably already knew Hitara as well as he ever would—and anyway he couldn’t afford for Owl to have other living friends.

Instead, he just watched Owl impassively for a while. Then he said: “Who knows, man? Who knows? Why’d anyone have to die? Why’d that poor kitten I used to feed at the temple have to die? For that matter, why’d my poor mother have to die bringing me into this crazy world? Of course it isn’t fair. Yet, here we are.” He shrugged. A moment passed without either man saying anything. Then Genkaku stood up and ground his cigarette into the ashtray. “Anyway,” he said with a smirk, “I now know just what to do with you.”

“Wait!” Owl called. “What are you going to do?!”

Genkaku didn’t answer. He turned his back to the fettered Deadman and walked away, calling very loudly: “Oh Rei Takashima! I’m gonna need some antipsychotics over here! Strongest stuff you have!”

Nagi watched the Undertaker disappear into the shadows, growing more and more nervous with each passing minute. He couldn’t believe he’d allowed himself to tell his worst enemy so much. How could someone so evil and treacherous be so easy to talk to? And to make matters even worse, now he was going to fetch Rei Takashima to torture him even more?!

To distract himself, if only briefly, Nagi closed his eyes and tried to conjure up memories of his wife. He thought of her face, her laugh, the way she used to tweak his nose and ruffle his hair—and, most of all, her almost maddening cheerfulness and optimism. Karako was a bit like her, he reflected, albeit coarser. He broke down and wept for what felt like the millionth time that day. “Oh Tsubasa, is what he said really true? Is our daughter truly dead? Did I really kill all those people? What have I become? What has my life become?!”


End file.
